


write our names in the wet concrete

by MyCupOfTea



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bitty Didn't Go To Samwell, Chronic Pain, Coming Out, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hockey Injuries, Hockey politics, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Winter Olympics, because i had to sneak some of that in there, bitty still figure skates, figure skating injuries, i also got a little soap boxy, international scandals, interview format, look i totally faked knowing about hockey politics in this a bunch it is not very factual, no realistic sports we write like men, oh boy does bitty still figure skate, or attempt at at least, sorry - Freeform, that kind of fairy tale love where your significant other knows your pain management routine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24488734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyCupOfTea/pseuds/MyCupOfTea
Summary: “Oh my God, has it? Been ten years already?”The Olympics are never without their fair share of drama, scandal, and movie worthy storylines. However, the 2018 Winter Olympics remains burned into the sports world’s memory especially bright.And the sports world, despite their somewhat recent retirement, includes Eric Bittle and Jack Zimmermann.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 52
Kudos: 296
Collections: Going Out With A Big Bang 2020





	write our names in the wet concrete

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! So, this is for the Going Out With A Big Bang event, and I was supposed to post almost two months ago. However, life got in the way, but it's finally done. 
> 
> I want to recommend [this fic,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16071959) which is basically the original "Jack causes an international scandal at the Winter Olympics" fic. 
> 
> There was supposed to be a lot more detail in parts of this fic, but I just needed to get it done and posted. Maybe one day I'll write some oneshots. I also kind of bash the Habs in this fic a bunch. I also kind of diss Denver, CO a bit. Whoops. I promise these were 100% necessary for storyline reasons and not products of my actual feelings. 
> 
> I don't actually know that much about Olympic politics and hockey politics and collective bargaining agreements so I googled a little bit and made up a lot. Your mileage may vary. 
> 
> I want to thank my girlfriend and beta, [Amelia](https://singerofsimplesongs.tumblr.com/) who, even though she hasn't seen the complete fic because I decided to be done and post it at four thirty in the morning, is basically responsible for this being somewhat legible. She also drew some fantastic art [which you can look at here!](https://singerofsimplesongs.tumblr.com/post/619768446311448576/ive-been-sitting-on-this-art-for-a-while-but-my)
> 
> And I want to thank my artist, [Max](https://transzimmermann.tumblr.com/), for their wonderful art! Please look and share it [here!](https://transzimmermann.tumblr.com/post/619725693935353856/write-our-names-in-the-wet-concrete-mycupoftea)
> 
> And ultimately, I want to thank them both for not strangling me while I wrote this, because honestly I probably deserved it.

_ Eric Bittle called me himself to tell me he would love to sit down for this interview, and that his husband’s agent would be calling to formally confirm the pair’s participation. _

_ And then he tells me his first thoughts when approached by his agent. _

_ “Oh my God, has it? Been ten years already?” _

_ The Olympics are never without their fair share of drama, scandal, and movie worthy storylines. However, the 2018 Winter Olympics remains burned into the sports world’s memory especially bright. _

_ And the sports world, despite their somewhat recent retirement, includes Eric Bittle and Jack Zimmermann. _

_ “It’s still odd,” Jack remarks. “How much of it is a blur and yet I feel like I remember everything.” _

_ The Winter Olympics contains a slew of sports and athletes that all but the activities’ die hard fans will see outside of the four year cycle. And therefore, for many, it seemed that the dramatics on ice came out of nowhere, with no buildup or foreshadowing. _

_ The same can be said for the, at the time, covert relationship between two of the shining stars of the games. _

_ “For some reason people assumed we met at the games,” Jack says. _

_ “I think it’s because most people don’t realize how much happens leading up to the Olympics. How many other international and national competitions it takes to get there,” Eric adds. “But no, we were together long before 2018.” _

_ Indeed, the two had known each other since before the 2014 Olympics – over a full year, in fact. The summer of 2012 saw a nearly twenty two year old Jack Zimmermann in Denver for a prospect camp with the Colorado Avalanche. Eric Bittle, at the tender age of nineteen – “so young,” Eric laughs, “what does any nineteen year old know?” – was coming off a season where he qualified for his first Grand Prix Finals. It is not talent nor competition that bring them together. _

_ Rather, it is construction. _

* * *

“I thought they were supposed to be done in June,” Bitty grumbles. He sounds petulant and he knows it. He’s been adjusting his workouts and practices to fit around the schedule of a few professional hockey players since their normal practice facility began renovations months ago. He’s more than a little peeved; the early hours of a figure skater aren’t fun but he’s never had this much trouble with it.

Bitty had joked earlier that he paid Starbucks more than the rink that summer; his mom had just sighed and said “I wish that were even a little bit true”.

“They were, but no construction project involving an ice rink has ever finished on time.” Mark takes another sip of coffee – fresh and hot, right out of the pot, unlike Eric’s, which had been sitting since he took the ice and switched to water, and is disappointingly lukewarm. “And they’ll be running practices with more people today supposedly.”

“Great. Wonderful.”

Eric writes a quick tweet complaining about early hours and rinks that gave preference to soon to be famous hockey players over small name figure skaters who had yet to medal in international competition. Despite that figure skater having had the seven to nine o’clock time slot six days a week for the past two years.

Not to mention that with more hours of the rink taken up by hockey players, the rink has reduced public skate hours which means he’s getting less hours of work.

Hockey players are the worst and that’s the end of that.

“You have a break now, right?” Mark asks.

“Yep. Normally I would have dance, but.”

“But the rink has messed up your schedule, I know. Try to get a nap and I’ll see you for group skate. I want to iron out that landing and sequence from the axel pass.”

* * *

_ The Colorado Avalanche maintain a practice facility in the heart of Denver that went through minor upgrades that was originally supposed to take two months, finishing in June of 2012. That August, the rink was still unusable. So the team turned to a smaller rink, just north of the city, that offered the amenities they required and was amenable to their demands in the middle of recreational ice skating’s slow season, at the expense of their regular crowd. _

_ “When you’re trying to skate at that level, you’re constantly battling for time on the ice. And the money to pay for that time,” Eric says. “So when your rink suddenly blocks off these huge chunks of time and you’re forced to work around it – well, let’s just say I was not at my most cheerful.” _

_ “Especially when they’re pushing you around for hockey players, of all people,” Jack teases, nudging his husband in the side. _

_ Eric rolls his eyes, but adds “you’re not wrong”. _

_ It makes sense when you consider that most figure skating careers are almost always bankrolled by the skater and their families, where second mortgages and second jobs are the normal to reach the high caliber that it takes to show up at the Grand Prix, Olympics, Worlds. Every second spent on the ice is a product of sacrifice and work ethics.  _

_ “I can – and have – said a lot about accessibility of sports to differing income levels. And both figure skating and hockey are some of the worst offenders in terms of needing more money than most families can ever hope to scrounge up,” Eric says, who has notably helped fund and run camps for underprivileged students with a passion for the ice. _

_ So a grumpy figure skater and a “oh, definitely more grumpy” hockey player walk into an ice rink. The start of a bad joke and the beginning of a loving, supportive relationship. _

_ “It took some time,” Jack admits. _

_ Jack, as is typical of his nature, showed up to check out the facilities the day before the camp was supposed to start, as Eric joined his cohort of figure skaters all training under the expertise of Mark Stantion. Eric assures me that, if time allows, (“and even if it doesn’t”), Jack will still attempt to check out the facilities if given the chance. _

_ “I had never seen that caliber of figure skating live before,” Jack admits. “I had seen the occasional Olympic highlights but I had never really paid attention before.” _

* * *

Colorado, Jack decides, is getting written out of contention immediately. 

That’s maybe not the wisest choice when camp hasn’t even started yet, but Jack is sick of Denver already. He’s never dealt well with the heat, and he thinks it’s incredibly ironic that he’s working with a team called the Avalanche when it’s 35 degrees Celsius outside. He hasn’t had much experience with elevation, but the constant headache he’s had since landing and the way he’s thirsty no matter how much water he drinks isn’t endearing him to the “Mile High” part of “Mile High City”. 

He decides to check out the rink, both out of habit and because it’s a guaranteed cooler environment than the hotel room with its overworked air conditioner. 

Jack grabs his wallet and phone and heads out the door, then stops and thinks before heading back in to grab his gear bag. He might as well see if he can skate a little bit. He knows this rink is primarily for public use, so they might have a smaller chunk of ice set off to the side for hockey. 

But -- he wasn’t able to view their current schedule online, ironically because of the Avalanche holding camp. So he should really just plan on walking in, looking around, and then coming back, right?

He talks himself into going back into his hotel room and dropping off his bag. 

This time Jack gets all the way to the elevator before doubling back for his bag, just in case. 

To a certain part of Jack, the part that doesn’t immediately get queasy when someone mentions his upcoming NHL career, an ice rink will always be home. There’s only so much difference between them, and as long as there’s a sheet of frozen water and they let him put his skates on, he’ll figure out the rest. 

“Hey man, sorry, but we’re not doing stick and puck on the weekdays anymore,” a bored teenager sitting behind a reception desk says to him, reading a magazine. “Saturdays and Sundays only.”

“Oh, uh. That’s fine. I actually have to be here for camp tomorrow? And I was wondering if I could take a look around?”

“Sure, I guess.” The teenager turns a page of the magazine. “Just don’t get in the skaters’ way. They’ve been bitchy enough already.”

Jack tries not to be taken aback and wanders in further, taking note of the fact that this is a rink that is obviously more used to hosting stick and pucks and public skates than NHL prospect camps. And then he realizes that the skaters on the ice are figure skaters. 

The familiar scratch of blades on ice is interrupted by the unfamiliar sounds of jumps and spins. He stares, transfixed, eyes trained on one blond skater as he spins too fast for Jack to keep up with. 

“Hey!” someone shouts in his direction. “You can’t be here, it’s a closed practice.”

Jack stares, deer in the headlights, as a short balding man walks around the boards toward him. 

“Oh, I -- I’m sorry, I --”

The man looks Jack up and down, paying special attention to the gear bag. 

“You’re one of the hockey guys? Did you get the date wrong?”

“Oh, no -- I mean yes, I am -- but I just wanted to -- to take a look around?” 

Jack feels himself go red all the way up to his hair as the man stares him down. 

“Okay,” the man says slowly. “I can’t have you in here during practice, but we’re done in another half hour, if you want to come back.”

“Oh -- okay.” After a beat of awkward silence, he adds a quick “thanks” and quickly walks away. 

Out in the lobby, he calls his mom, while trying not to make eye contact with the teenager still reading the magazine. 

“How’s Colorado?”

“Not my favorite,” Jack answers honestly and in French, thinking there’s a better chance of someone overhearing who cares in English. “It’s hot, and I have a headache.”

Alicia tsks with her tongue. “Drink more water. You need more than you think up there.”

“I have been because I’ve been constantly thirsty.”

Alicia laughs. “If it doesn’t agree with you, then it doesn’t agree with you. Camp doesn’t start until tomorrow, right? What are you doing tonight?”

“I’m waiting to check out the rink right now.” Jack feels the pregnant pause from his mother on the other side. “I was bored and antsy but now I’m waiting for a figure skating session to finish.”

“Figure skating? You should send me a video! I love watching them at the Olympics.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t think I can do that. They said they don’t allow spectators.”

“Closed practice? That sounds like they might be pretty high up.”

“Really?” Jack asks. “I mean, I remember having closed practices before I was pretty young.”

In hindsight, Jack realizes that those practices were probably closed to protect him from photographers. His mother’s long pause tells him he’s right. 

“Well, still! You should see if they have open practices. Maybe you can watch one.”

“I think they’re a little too strict for that, but maybe.”

“Well, you’re there for a week. Might as well find something to do.”

* * *

Jack spends the morning before the first day of camp intensely and horrifically nervous, which is what he’ll blame getting to the rink way earlier than he knew he needed to. 

And why he’s so jumpy that hearing someone else’s voice makes him trip over his feet so bad he actually has to catch himself on the door handle he was reaching for. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” comes from behind him, and once he’s got his weight settled on his feet again he turns around to see a man on skates scowling from behind him in the locker room. “I still have another forty five minutes.”

“Oh -- I know, I’m early, I’m not going to -- I’m sorry?” Jack offers. “I was actually just going to drop my stuff and leave.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t get in your way.”

They stare at each for a long pause. 

“I’m sorry, but -- but you’re literally in my way. I need to --” the man gestures to the door. 

“Oh! Oh, shit, sorry --” Jack trips over his own feet again in his haste to get out of the way. 

The man reaches for the door, but hesitates. “Are you -- are you okay? You’re a little bit, um.”

Jack takes a deep breath.  _ It’s okay to be nervous.  _

“Um, today’s, ah, like a try out? For me? Kind of. Except everyone else is trying out for right now and I’m trying out for a year from now, but it’s -- been a while.”

“Oh. You’re one of the -- hockey.”

“Euh, yeah. I’m -- hockey.”

The man clears his throat. “Well. Good luck, then.”

As the man walks out of the locker room on the shortened strides of someone in skates on carpet, Jack lets his shoulders drop a little bit. Admitting he’s nervous has done wonders for his actual nerves. This is hockey. He can do this.

He finds a locker already neatly labeled with his name and drops his bag. Just thinking about breakfast had made him queasy earlier, but he’s feeling better and there’s probably somewhere around here that will serve him protein and carbs at this hour. 

Jack turns to leave and for the second time that morning, jumps at the presence of someone else. 

“Woah, kiddo, sorry. Didn’t think anyone would be in here this early. I know Bittle has the ice for a while longer.”

Jack vaguely knows that the woman in front of him is a scout but that’s where the familiarity ends. “Bittle?” he manages. 

“The figure skater.” She jerks a thumb towards the ice, before extending her hand. “Georgia Martin. Everyone around here calls me George.”

“Jack Zimmermann,” he says, returning her firm handshake. 

“I know,” she says with a good humored smirk, and Jack huffs a laugh. “What are you doing here this early?”

“Just dropping my stuff off. And now I’m going to go find something for breakfast.”

George claps his shoulder. “Let me give you some recommendations. Hotel breakfast is  _ technically _ food but --”

* * *

_ And Eric, as he does, stood out. Despite being 5’7” (“5’6.5”, ISU rounds up”) and having the slight build most top figure skaters are made of, he admits he’s never been good at blending in. This is something that would get him in both hot water and international spotlights over the time of his competitive career. _

_ He was an outside favorite to participate in the 2010 Olympics during his senior debut. A stunning step sequence and an increasingly powerful takeoff that was hinting towards potential quads made him a judge’s favorite, and the All American, thousand watt smile didn’t hurt. _

_ But not everyone was a fan. _

_ What was referred to officially as an “off ice accident” at the time, and later exposed as the result of homophobic bullying by his high school peers, Eric withdrew from the 2009/2010 figure skating season. At the time he was training in his home state of Georgia, and quickly had to make a decision. _

_ “We realized that it was time for a change,” Eric said. “And so we made one. My coach at the time, Katya, helped us contact a club in Denver. My mom and dad applied for jobs, and that was that.” _

_ The Bittles were headed to Colorado. _

_ “It was a culture shock, but I think that’s what we needed,” Eric’s dad, Richard, known to many simply as “Coach” after a lifetime of football coaching. _

_ The culture shock also probably didn’t hurt for Eric, who said he came out to his parents on the drive from Madison to Denver. _

_ “Was coming out to my parents on the highway in a truck we were all stuck in for the next couple of thousand miles a good idea? Probably not. But it also wasn’t very surprising.” _

_ “He fit some stereotypes,” his mom, Suzanne, admitted. “Which made us wonder. We didn’t want to make assumptions. But when your son gets attacked at school, and the boys that did it admitted it and think that your son is the one that has something wrong with him, you at the very least know other people are making those assumptions.” _

_ Denver turned out to be an auspicious change for Eric. Qualifications for Grand Prix events and National Championships, successful quads in a time where successful quads were becoming a must to place in any senior event, and still the same competitive energy and gorgeous step sequences were making him a formidable competitor. _

_ Across the country, Jack Zimmermann was gearing up for his own decision -- traveling from Samwell, Massachusetts where he had led the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team in both a leadership capacity and in points-- to Denver, Colorado, where the Avalanche were trying to make their mark on hockey’s most interesting free agent. _

_ “I’m really pretty boring,” Jack protests. _

_ Despite protests otherwise, one of the hottest topics of the 2012-2013 NHL was where was Jack Zimmermann going to sign. It’s not uncommon for promising players to drop out of drafts, or to leave the sport for mysterious reasons or tragic injuries – rarely does it make headlines for more than a few days, perhaps a week at most, of the changeable and fickle landscape of sports news. However, Jack Zimmermann leaving the 2009 draft for undisclosed reasons only to reappear several months later at Samwell University was a bold move that was met with reasonable surprise and tight lipped secrecy from the Zimmermann family. _

_ “My mental health was in shambles,” present day Jack admits. “I was abusing my anxiety medication and drinking heavily; the only time I was aware of the present was on the ice. Coaches were worried, my boyfriend of the time was worried, my parents were frantic. I got lucky that someone intervened before something worse happened.” _

_ What was that intervention? _

_ “I was admitted for inpatient mental health care for several weeks. When I was released, my parents forced me to apply for college, like a normal seventeen year old. We traveled to look at campuses and I met with career counselors who considered hockey to be one of several options I had for the future, instead of a box I had put myself in and could never get out of.” _

_ “Jack always loved hockey, past the love of a son who wants to do what his father did,” his father, famed “Bad Bob” Zimmermann tells me. “He genuinely wanted to be on the ice and playing. But he unfortunately wasn’t given the space to be able to figure out the way he wanted to do that. He always had to grapple with the comparisons to me and the unbelievable pressure that came from all sides from that. I’d give all of my awards and trophies back to give him a clean slate in the sport we both love, but that’s not how it works.” _

_ Alicia Zimmermann elbows her husband in the side. They’re known for their teasing banter in joint interviews and appearances – and I can see the echoes of that in Jack and Eric. _

_ “It’s not just the pressure of a successful parent. It’s the pressure of that image that the public, that your peers, your superiors can hold up to you and then compare you to. Especially when that image is so set in heteronormative functions and you’re a queer teenager.” _

_ “I needed to learn that I was more than a hockey player. That it was going to take more than hockey to keep me happy and that’s normal. Which might sound a little weird to people who weren’t me at eighteen years old.” _

_ Perhaps, but the desire to succeed without having to sacrifice fundamental parts of yourself is a familiar one to many – and familiar to one Eric Bittle. _

_ The physique of a figure skater is vastly different than that of a hockey player; the skates are different; and the fact they both take place on ice seems to be all that ties these two sports together, and with it, Jack and Eric. _

_ “But none of it is that different,” Eric insists. _

* * *

Bitty stops dead when the man from earlier is sitting in the locker room. 

“Oh. You’re back?” the man says. 

“Yeah. You’re still here?”

“I was about to leave.”

Bitty sighs. Five am was a long time ago, and he’s got several hours of Mark kicking his ass on the ice before he gets to put this day to bed. “Ugh, I wish I could say the same.”

“We screwed up your schedule, didn’t we?” 

At least the man has the decency to look somewhat contrite. 

“Yes. Well, not you specifically, I guess.” Bitty crosses the room to his locker and pulls out his skates, stowing his bag. 

“How long have you been skating?”

Bitty pauses, does some math in his head. “About fifteen years? Somewhere around there. How about you? How long have you been playing hockey?”

“Pretty much my whole life. My dad played, so.”

Bitty thinks about what it would be like if Coach had skated. Or if he had been interested at all in playing football. Maybe it would be nice to have someone who had experience but also. . . 

“That sounds kind of hard.”

The man blinks in surprise. “That’s not what most people say.”

* * *

_ They met at pivotal parts in their careers, on the cusp of huge success and with the pressure of potential failure. They each had goals far beyond the wildest dreams of the average person. And most importantly: they each had an instant connection with the other one. _

_ “It wasn’t quite attraction at first. It was realization that this person gets me in a way that we had both found lacking in the people around us. Not that we didn’t love our friends, our teammates, our family,” Jack says of their early interactions. But there’s something about being a successful athlete at the beginning of your career and knowing that people are going to remember your sexuality at least as much as they’re going to remember your other accomplishments. I ask both of them how that knowledge affected them.  _

_ “I think it would bother the both of us more if we hadn’t gotten to choose how we made our impact,” Eric says. _

_ How did they choose to come out the way they did, exactly? It’s a conversation they started having very early on in their relationship, they say. _

* * *

From: Bitty   
You can’t be the only queer man in hockey

From: Bitty   
Wait your ex plays hockey too right

To: Bitty   
Yeah

From: Bitty   
But obviously he’s not out either. But it can’t just be you two

To: Bitty   
It probably isn’t but I don’t know of anyone else myself

To: Bitty   
I can’t imagine coming out just to come out

To: Bitty   
I mean someone probably would or could but I don’t think I could

From: Bitty   
What do you mean, coming out just to come out?

To: Bitty   
Coming out while single

From: Bitty   
You’d want to be seeing someone first

To: Bitty   
Pretty seriously, yeah

From: Bitty   
I get that. 

To: Bitty   
I think wanting to not have to hide that I was with someone or if I wanted to like. Get married or something. That’s when I would do it

* * *

_ “Before our romantic relationship, even. One of the biggest differences between us was the way Jack was very much in the closet, and I was only in the closet in that no one had asked me about it. That was a big difference between hockey and figure skating at the time. Hockey very much pretended there was no way a gay player could be playing at those higher levels, if at all, and figure skating was a “don’t ask, don’t tell” kind of policy.” _

_ Both are damaging in different ways. Both encourage secrecy and inspire shame. So how did this conversation come up? _

_ “Not very romantic, but we both talked about our pasts and our exes and it didn’t take each of us to realize those exes were male and those pasts included the very familiar experiences of another queer man,” Eric says. _

_ “We just texted for weeks after we met in Colorado,” Jack adds.  _

* * *

From: Bitty   
Ooooooh so this is the secret you couldn’t tell me about [link to ESPN article]   
Article preview: Jack Zimmermann comes home to Montreal, signs two year contract

To: Bitty   
It was killing me not to tell you right away haha

To: Bitty   
I think you were right, about having my parents nearby. 

From: Bitty   
Don’t tell me you made that decision because of me

To: Bitty   
No! No, I got a lot of advice from a lot of people. But yeah, you helped

To: Bitty   
How’s choreo going?

From: Bitty   
It’s fine.

From: Bitty   
I mean it’s just

From: Bitty   
I’m trying really hard not to think about the fact that it’s an Olympic year but I can’t not, you know?

To: Bitty   
Yeah. I know. 

From: Bitty   
Like I need to think about it, because I want to be competitive but

To: Bitty   
It’s a lot of pressure

From: Bitty    
Yes! And like, I’m so close. It could happen. 

To: Bitty   
You can make it happen. 

From: Bitty   
Thank you, hon

From: Bitty   
What about you? Do you think you’ll be there?

To: Bitty   
Oh. I really don’t know. There’s a whole league to choose from, so.

From: Bitty   
A league which you’re now a part of

To: Bitty   
I mean. I guess it’s always possible.

* * *

_ From there, it became another thing to commiserate about. In addition to complaints about the special kind of pain skating causes anyone at any level, and the pressure of parental and coach’s expectations, they could swap stories about microaggressions and assumptions. _

_ Over the next year and a half, the two would see each other very little and yet talk almost every day. They talk fondly about this period of more than friends, not quite lovers relationship that they fell into, describing intense feelings that neither could quite work up the courage to admit to the other one. _

_ “The Olympics is a whole different ball game ,” Jack says. _

* * *

“Canada” and “United States” are nowhere near each other in the alphabet, and so Bitty is nowhere near Jack during the Opening Ceremonies. 

He doesn’t think about that too much, too concerned with the spectacular artistry in front of him and the fact that the American opening ceremony uniform that Jack had laughed his ass off about when they were released is making him sweat. He thought Russia was supposed to be cold, but it was nearly seventy degrees today. 

Bitty is standing with the rest of the US skaters, and it’s always good to see his old rinkmates from Colorado, especially since he had only seen Maria at the Grand Prix Finals. But he would prefer to do it in different clothes. 

After the torch is lit and the ceremonials are over, he milled around with the rest of the US team, introducing himself to some of the other sports and waiting for some of the crowd to disperse so he could try to track down his parents. He was trying to keep his eye out for one of Jack’s Montreal teammates that Jack had mentioned to him when he hears a shout of his name. 

Jack jogs over to him, grinning wildly, and Bitty laughs as they hug. 

“God, it’s  _ so _ good to see you,” Bitty says as they break apart. 

“Eh, wish I could say the same but,” Jack gestures at Bitty’s attire. “It is actually worse in person.”

“Oh shut it you -- you -- Mountie!” he says, punching Jack’s red emblazoned shoulder through his laughter. 

Jack pretends to be hurt as two people who have to be his parents for how much he looks just like them, catch up to him. 

“So you must be Eric,” the man who must be Bob says, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. 

Bitty nods. “That would be me. Uh. Mr. Zimmermann.” Jack smirks at him and he rolls his eyes.

“Bob, please. And Alicia, my wife. It’s good to meet you. I don’t think Jack understands how much he talks about you.”

“We’re going to grab a late dinner,” Alicia says, elbowing her husband in the side. 

“Or something. I’ve lost track of what meal it actually is through the jet lag.” Bob yawns to further prove his point.

“Could you join us? Your parents too,” Alicia finishes. 

“Oh, ah, I really want to, but --”

“He starts competing tomorrow,” Jack explains. 

Bitty gives an apologetic grimace. “I’m due on the ice pretty early.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” and Bob sounds genuinely sad about it. 

“But maybe we’ll be able to catch some of your performances!” Alicia says. 

“We’re definitely going to try,” Bob says. 

“That would be great, it would --” Bitty catches a glimpse of his parents, walking around lost, from over Alicia’s shoulder. “Oh shoot, I’ve got to go. Sorry! I hope I’ll see you guys soon!”

* * *

_ “Jack was doing so well in his first season in Montreal, and I was coming off of a Grand Prix medal. We had been in different time zones, adjusting to this new level of competition for both of us, so we hadn’t been talking as much as normal. Seeing him at the 2014 Opening Ceremonies. . . It hit me that I couldn’t hide it to myself anymore,” Eric says of himself. _

_ And Jack? _

* * *

“It’s too bad you guys won’t be able to see each other much while you’re here. He seems nice,” Bob comments as they watch Bitty jog towards his parents. 

“Mm,” Jack says, distractedly, before his dad’s words sink in. “Wait, what?”

“Well, you’ve got practices, and he’s competing when you’re not, and then you’re competing when he’s done -- you guys probably won’t be seeing much of each other,” Bob says. 

“Oh,” Jack mumbles. 

“Mm, you might not see each other off the ice until you’re both back in the States,” Alicia adds. 

“Oh.” Something sinks into Jack’s brain then, warm and urgent. “Oh, uh. I think. I think I’m going to skip dinner. And, um -- I gotta go.”

* * *

_ “I ditched my parents and all of my friends to track him down and tell him how I felt,” he confesses. “They were not pleased.” _

_ “I was pleased,” Eric chirps. “He traipsed around the Olympic Village for a while to find me, I guess.” _

* * *

When they end up in bed, naked, tangled, Jack is – Jack is comfortable. Well, maybe comfortable isn’t the right word exactly – he’s sweaty, slightly on the desperate side of hard, aching for every touch Bitty gives him. But he wants so bad and so easily in a way he can’t really fathom.

It’s so easy to slide his mouth along Bitty’s neck, so easy to shiver when Bitty’s hands slide into his hair, so easy to enjoy the press of Bitty’s body up against his, rolling them into a patch of sheets yet to be body warmed, a shock to his overheated skin.

Later, he’ll shake and tremble with the enormity of what they’re doing, how every kiss and touch is a risk, how bad he is at hiding his affection, how he’s supposed to pretend he doesn’t adore everything about Eric Bittle in a believable way.

But for now, Bitty is right in front of him, a luxury he’s not going to get very often, no matter what. Whether they’re in bed or on a couch or in a kitchen or in public, having Bitty so close is warmth, is a heated room on a cold day, a hot drink first thing in the morning, an open oven door when dinner is ready.

Jack, for once, lets it be easy.

* * *

_ But not everything was perfect. After a gold medal finish by the Canadian Men’s Ice Hockey team and a bronze medal in the team event for the American figure skating team, both return to their everyday lives that are everything but everyday. _

_ And there are some growing pains. _

_ “I realized I wasn’t happy,” Eric admits. “Which is not an easy thing for me to admit in the best of circumstances.” _

_ “Eric is a people pleaser and I mean that in the best way,” Jack says earnestly. “He loves it when people are happy and I think it makes him a really fantastic performer on the ice. But sometimes it takes a push for him to realize it’s okay to put his foot down and be selfish. We both struggle with that – always have – so it’s a team effort.” _

_ The Bittles take a much needed trip to Georgia following Sochi, meeting with friends and family. Eric says a vital part of that trip was getting to meet with his first coach, who gave him some vital advice. _

_ “Katya was very clear that I needed to do what I needed to do to enjoy working hard again,” Eric continues. “And that opened my eyes to the fact that I wasn’t enjoying my days on the ice anymore. It was time for a change.” _

_ Katya not only gave Eric some advice, but some connections as well: she put him in touch with what would become his long term coaching team and skating club. _

* * *

Madison doesn’t feel any different after winning a bronze medal. 

It’s still hotter than he expects. The Morgan County Courthouse is still the center of the town. His MooMaw’s house still has the spare bedroom with the fan that wobbles ominously when you turn it on. 

It’s been five years. 

Bitty moved out of Georgia with barely healed injuries, his parents, and a vague sense of anxiety about his future. Now he’s back in Georgia with a bronze medal, his parents, and a vague sense of anxiety about his future. 

“Mama,” he calls out as he grabs the keys for the rental car. “I’m going to go see Katya.”

His mother shouts an agreement from the kitchen where she’s drinking a glass of sweet tea with MooMaw. 

Bitty thinks about pulling up directions, just in case, but it turns out he still remembers how to get around in the town he learned to drive in. It’s not a long drive, and he still feels unsettled when he gets there. 

Stepping back into his old skating club doesn’t make it better. It makes him feel like a kid again, only really able to find his place on the ice. 

That thought reminds him of other things that have changed since they moved to Colorado, and he pulls out his phone to text Jack. 

To: Jack   
How do you live in the same city you grew up in? Doesn’t it make you feel like a kid all the time?

Jack responds almost immediately. 

From: Jack   
Not really? But Montreal is a pretty big city   
I take it the trip home isn’t going so well?

To: Jack   
It’s all right. But I definitely think moving back here would be a bad idea

The Morgan County Ice Center isn’t very big. It has a regulation size ice rink, but almost no spectating space and the public bathrooms double as the locker room. But there’s still room for two small office spaces, and in one of them Bitty finds Katya. 

“Eric,” she says when he knocks on the open door. “You finally decide it’s time to come see your old coach? It’s only been years.”

“Katya,” he says, smiling wide as she does her best to break his ribs with a hug. “I missed you.”

“Obviously. Your axel needs work.” She must see something on his face because the slight smile she had went away. She sighs out her favorite Russian term of endearment -- she’s refused every time to tell him what it means and Bitty has never been able to find it by googling -- and pats his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I just -- I just feel a little stuck. I think -- I think I need a change.”

Katya hums knowingly. “You need a new coach.”

Bitty blinks in surprise. “Well, I was thinking about it.”

Katya nods. “You are not inspired anymore, not skating like you’re excited to be there. I don’t think it’s anything but that.”

Bitty deflates a little. “I feel bad. I like Mark, he’s helped me a lot. But --”

“But just like I couldn’t help you anymore when you left here, he can’t help you anymore there.” She eyes him up and down. “How big of a change are you willing to make?”

“I don’t want to move back here, Katya, I can’t --”

“I’m not talking about coming back here. I have two friends, from Russia. Moved here a few years ago. They teach up north, started their own club. You would be the jewel of their students.” Katya thinks for a moment. “They would like you, I think. They moved because Georgy, Russia considers him a woman. It’s safer here than there.”

Bitty lets it sink in. For all that he’s been firm on needing a change, it’s wild to think about actually doing it. Telling Mark that he’s thankful for their time together, but that he needs to leave. Moving somewhere he’s never been to learn under people he’s never met. 

Not living with his parents. 

“And -- they’re good?”

“They are  _ excellent.  _ I would have recommended them to you five years ago if they had been stable enough then to support you. I’ll talk to them tonight. I think you could be good for each other.”

* * *

Bitty sits in the rental car in his MooMaw’s driveway and thinks about it. He almost texted Jack right away, but had second thoughts right before he hit send. It seems like something he needs to think about privately, like even though he loves Jack and wants his opinion he needs to sort through his tangle of feelings first. 

He finally goes into the house and leans against the doorframe of the kitchen, and tells his mom and MooMaw what Katya told him. 

Suzanne sighs. “I can’t say I’m surprised. I think we all need a change. But think it over, honey. And don’t make hasty decisions! We haven’t even met these people.”

“I know. But -- I need a change like this. Even if it’s not with these coaches I think -- I think I need to look for a new club.”

Suzanne sets her glass down with a clink. 

“We were wondering when a good time to bring it up was, but your daddy and I are considering moving back here.”

“Oh, I -- I already knew that?”

“You did?”

“Y’all aren’t subtle? You’ve been talking about it for a year.”

“You never brought it up!”

“I didn’t think I needed to? I figured you two would make a decision and then tell me.”

“But not without you!” 

“Mama. . . It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” Bitty sighs. “But I don’t expect you guys to move with me again. I know you two want to move back here. That’s okay.”

“Where did Katya say these people were?”

“Rhode Island.”

“Rhode Island!” For some reason, this is the part she gets hung up on. “I’ve never even been to Rhode Island.”

“Me either, but. I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

* * *

Later that night, Bitty stares at the wobbly ceiling fan and thinks about the future. He very specifically doesn’t let himself think about Jack. 

He thinks about early rink mornings. He thinks about standing on the podium at nationals, at worlds, at the Olympics. He thinks about the split second crescendo of a jump, the terrifying cymbal crash of a landing. He thinks about all the things he’s not willing to give up on, and medals and awards still to be won.

He thinks about snowy days, about cold wind off the water. He thinks about elevation and the lack thereof. He thinks about new driver’s licenses, and cross country Uhaul trips. 

After he’s thought about all of those, he lets himself think about Jack. He thinks about the soft press of Jack’s hand on his face when they kissed for the first time, thinks about the way Jack hugged him after Team USA won bronze, tight and warm and like he was never going to let go. 

He thinks about how the worst part of the plane ride to Sochi was not being able to text Jack, and how Jack looks when he laughs, all scrunched up eyes and too wide, too toothy grins to be dignified. He thinks about the soft brush of Jack’s hand on his arm waking him up in the morning. 

Bitty grabs his phone off the nightstand and before he can think too hard, shoots off a text to Jack. 

To: Jack   
How do you feel about Providence, RI

From: Jack   
I think that most of my friends from college live within an hour of there, but other than that not much. Why?

To: Jack   
Just thinking. About the future. 

From: Jack   
About Providence?

To: Jack:   
About Providence. I can’t wait to tell you about it. 

He sends one last text:

To: Katya   
I’m really excited to talk to Katarina and Georgy. 

Finally, he thinks about sleep. 

* * *

_ It was a drastic move, however. _

_ Eric had been living with his parents – common for figure skaters dealing with outrageous expenses – but the time had come. The money from the Sochi Olympics went towards getting him established across the country in Providence, Rhode Island. Suzanne and Richard Bittle moved back to Georgia. _

_ “We needed to be closer to our parents and Dicky needed to be away from his,” Suzanne says of the move. _

_ Like his move to Denver, Eric’s move to Providence was fruitful. Bronzes turned to silvers, silvers turned to golds. He went from an outside favorite to the strong favorite in every sense of the word. _

_ “Lord, those first two years in Providence were so hard, but so good. I was so happy to be doing what I was doing.” _

_ The same, however, could not be said of Jack. _

_ “I went to play for Montreal for the right reasons. I needed the familiarity of the city I grew up in, having the support of my parents through my first season was fantastic, and I enjoyed playing hockey for a respected team. But I left for the right reasons, too.” _

* * *

“I feel so stuck,” Jack confesses to his parents over breakfast. “They won’t let me leave, they won’t improve anything while I’m here. I can’t come out with this team. I can barely be on this team!”

Bob sighs and swipes at his iPad. “I think if you give it a little bit more time they’ll work with you on leaving. No offense, but you’re not exactly projected to win the Cup this year. Or anything.”

“Thanks, Papa,” Jack says dryly. 

“What does Eric say about this?” Alicia asks. 

“He thinks it’s ridiculous that I’m stuck here.”

“I meant about not being out.”

“Oh.” Jack sighs. “I mean, he’s not looking forward to the media firestorm? He would just like to, you know. Stop looking over his shoulder all the time, and watching what he says. But I think he’s mostly upset because he doesn’t like how they’re treating me.”

“I do like that boy quite a bit,” Bob says. He gets an alert on his iPad and hums thoughtfully. “Providence just hired Georgia Martin as AGM.”

Jack drops his fork. “They  _ what _ ?”

“Just hired Georgia Martin. It can’t be that surprising, she’s honestly overqualified.”

“I just didn’t know she was leaving Colorado! Why didn’t we hire her? They’ve been looking for an excuse to fire someone that isn’t ‘we’re playing like hot dog shit’ --”

“Because that would be a smart decision and the front office hasn’t made one of those since they signed you.”

Jack made a frustrated noise and tossed his hands up. 

“Look, Jack, Georgia liked you in Colorado. They draft in June -- maybe something will change by then.”

* * *

_ The NHL was nearing its collective bargaining agreement rework, a difficult and cumbersome process that has seen lockouts in the past. The locker room of the Montreal Canadiens was becoming more and more divided on topics such as racism and homophobia in hockey. And the spark that lit this fire? The awarding of a franchise to the Providence Falconers. _

_ “I missed the northeast United States. I missed having trust in my front office. And I missed my boyfriend. When I heard Georgia Martin had been selected as the Assistant General Manager, I knew I had to take a chance. Plus, Montreal was ready to be rid of me anyway. I was making trouble for them with the CBA and they weren’t happy about it.” _

_ Making trouble how, exactly? _

_ A split Montreal locker room sends Jack Zimmermann to speak on their behalf at the NHL Player’s Association. He speaks out loudly for stronger protections for gay players and other minorities, speaks out for more straightforward player safety rules, and asks for written assurance that players will be allowed to go to the Olympics. _

_ “I decided I was okay with being a problem. And I was surprised at how much support I had. Players at that level just want to play with the best, against the best, and be protected while they do it.” _

_ The support, however, did not come from the NHL. The Player’s Association gets handed an ultimatum: sign what is still considered one of the least protective CBAs or go into lockout. _

* * *

“They’re refusing your request for a trade.”

Jack’s agent, Penny, at least sounded genuinely sorry and disappointed. She’s been with Jack since the Q, and Jack swears that she can perform legitimate magic tricks when it comes to talking teams into things involving Jack. 

But apparently not this time. 

Jack sighs. 

“Okay. Thank you for trying, Penny.”

“I’m not giving up. They’re saying no now, but things move fast and I’m still working on it, okay?”

“I know, Penny. Thank you.”

Jack immediately texts Bitty when he hangs up. 

To: Bitty   
They said no. I’m probably here for another season

From: Bitty   
Oh no! They can do that? You can’t get out no matter what?

To: Bitty   
It’s a contract, I’m locked in for another three years. 

From: Bitty   
Even though they’ve been openly patronizing to you?

To: Bitty   
It’s not uncommon enough to be shocking. 

From: Bitty   
Sweetpea. That’s really fucked up. 

To: Bitty   
I’m aware. Penny is still working on it, she might find something

From: Bitty   
I’ve got to head out for ballet, but I’ll talk to you tonight?

To: Bitty   
Yes, talk to you then

Jack sighs and goes to dial his dad to let him on the bad news. 

* * *

_ Everyone remembered what the lockout was like before, and no one wanted to do it again. Reluctantly, they signed it. _

_ Despite lack of progressive changes at the league level, one other change does happen for Jack: his agent finally manages to convince the Montreal Canadiens to trade Jack to the brand new Providence Falconers for some much needed offensive prospects. In Providence, reunited with his college friends and his boyfriend, Jack flourishes. _

_ And so does Eric. _

_ “I’m not going to lie and say that Jack moving to Providence didn’t make my life easier, because it did. I was no longer sharing a two bedroom apartment with three other skaters. I decreased my working hours and increased my practice hours. Sure, maybe I could have been more independent and kept my own place – but we didn’t get to see each other much anyways, and I didn’t want to fit travel from two apartments into that. Moving in together was the right choice.” _

_ “I had the resources to help support him in such a minor way in the grand scheme of things,” Jack adds. “Sure, I was paying for rent, but I was in a situation where I could afford it – I was paid for every second I was on the ice, instead of paying for every second I was on the ice. I was happy to give the love of my life some ease and comfort.” _

_ Both Jack and Eric have stories upon stories of their lives together as two top athletes in Providence. While some of them are humorous, squabbles over refusals to change brands of protein powder and color coded calendars of practices, games, and competitions, some are more serious, evidence of the consequences of pushing the boundaries of sport. _

_ Leading up to the 2018 Olympics, while trying to perfect what would become “the quad seen round the world” – a quadruple Lutz with an arm above the head, accomplished at the end of his grueling 2017-2018 long program – Eric fell. _

_ It’s not unusual for figure skaters to fall while practicing quads, and unfortunately it’s not unusual for them to get hurt, either. _

_ And while Eric would be luckier than most in his career, he was not immune to injury. _

_ A figure skater will hit the ice with incredible force, even when all goes well and a jump is landed cleanly. When something goes wrong, it can be disastrous. _

_ In this case, it led to a dislocated shoulder. _

* * *

Jack comes home after practice with little but the thought of food on his mind. He dumps his gear bag behind the couch, hoping he’ll remember to pick it up and empty it out like Bitty manages to do so nothing smells too bad. But first he makes a beeline for the kitchen, pulling out a yoghurt. Before he shuts the fridge door all the way, he thinks better of it and grabs another one.

He sits on the couch with his snacks and peels the top off with one hand, wedging it between his thighs so his other hand is free to text Bitty.

To: Bits   
Hey, what do you want for dinner?

He sends the text and starts eating.

Bitty’s text notification sounds off from their bedroom.

Jack pauses with his spoon halfway to his mouth, frowning. Bitty doesn’t leave his phone at home. He has never, in all the time Jack has known him, left his phone at home.

Jack stands up from the couch and wanders, bewildered, into the bedroom. He doesn’t really know what he expects to see, but the sight of Bitty, curled up beneath the comforter, sleepily raising his head in Jack’s direction, is surprising.

“Hey,” Bitty says, raspy with sleep.

“Bits. Are you – I thought you had ice time until later?”

“I do – I did –” Bitty shifts a little more on the bed and Jack can see the strap of something on his shoulder. “But I fell during my quad lutz and popped my shoulder out.”

“You –” Jack now finally notices the glassy look in Bitty’s eyes that isn’t just due to having just woken up and the bottles of medication on the nightstand. He sets his yoghurts down next to the bottle. “Are you okay? You didn’t call me.”

“I know I didn’t. Honestly I was in a lot of pain and not exactly thinking clearly.” Bitty rolls onto his back gingerly and Jack can see where his arm is being held in a sling against his chest. “Kat took me to the ER and they took care of it. Up until then I couldn’t even remember my own name, and then it wasn’t like I could drive and Kat had already taken me to the hospital so she just dropped me off on her way home.” Bitty rubs his eyes and sighs. “We’ll have to pick up my car at some point. Of all the days to drive in.”

“Tater and I can grab it. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Probably can’t skate for a bit. Physical therapy.” Bitty shrugs his good shoulder. Jack makes a sympathetic pain sound and sits on the bed, carefully resting a comforting arm across Bitty’s waist over the blankets. “You know how it goes.”

“Yeah. I know.” Jack rubs his hand up and down along the vague shape of Bitty’s side. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“God no.” Bitty shakes his head and peers up at Jack. “But your text said something about dinner?”

“What do you want? I’ll take care of it.”

“I want spaghetti with meatballs. I want terrible sauce from a jar and those sawdust frozen meatballs. Frozen garlic bread.”

“Really stretching the limits of my culinary skills, aren’t you?” Bitty didn’t laugh, but he did crack a smile, which Jack counted as a success. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up when it’s ready.”

“I don’t want to go back to sleep,” Bitty complains. “I’ve been sleeping for hours. I think. I want to be able to sleep tonight.”

“Bud, the painkillers are going to put you to sleep tonight. Just let them.”

“I kind of just passed out earlier, but. I think the stuff they gave me at the hospital has worn off.”

Jack bites back the immediate response on the tip of his tongue.  _ I can’t believe you didn’t call me.  _ He knows how it can go, being an injured athlete. 

“I’ll get you some ice.” He patted approximately where he thought Bitty’s hip was. “Be right back.”

In the kitchen, he grabs a couple of ice packs out of their stash. Between the two of them, their ice packs take up half of their freezer. He also checks that they have everything and when they don’t, takes a few minutes to set up a grocery delivery. He grabs a water bottle out of the fridge and heads back to the bedroom. 

“How do you want to sleep?” Jack asks, setting the glass down on the nightstand. “Do you think you’d be more comfortable on your side?”

“I’m kind of scared to move,” Bitty confesses. “It just. Feels really fragile and achey.”

Jack makes a small noise of concern and starts packing Bitty’s shoulder in ice. 

“I’m going to go get dinner started. I ordered some groceries so if the doorbell rings ignore it, okay?”

“‘Kay,” Bitty says, eyes starting to close. 

“And just yell if you need me, eh?”

“I wish had called you earlier,” Bitty says suddenly. “But I didn’t really know what was happening and then by the time I felt better, I was already on my way home.”

“I just wish I could have been there with you,” Jack says, stroking Bitty’s hair, which gets him a pleased hum. “But I’ll be with you when you go get it checked out next time, yeah?” He pauses. “Also maybe we should talk to Kat and make sure she knows to call me next time.”

“Good idea,” Bitty says, words slurring as he falls asleep. Jack smiles and presses a kiss to his forehead before going to get the pasta boiling. 

* * *

_ “I got pretty lucky,” Eric admits. “I had a pretty bad stress fracture towards the beginning of my senior career but it healed nicely, once I took the time off to let it heal. The dislocated shoulder was my only other major injury that required a long chunk of time to heal. And with quads – you hit hard. You don’t have much control once you’re in the air. I think about how hard I’ve hit the ice before and lucky is an understatement.” _

_ While it might have taken years to get explicit backup from the NHL, Jack did have the explicit support of the Falconers from the first contract he signed with them. All of the Falconers’ contracts included verbiage about conduct regarding slurs and bigotry, firmly stating the zero tolerance policy. For the first time, Jack felt comfortable enough to share a side of himself with teammates he had never before. _

_ “It actually wasn’t a big ‘I’ve gathered you all here to tell you I’m gay’,” Jack says. “After the first few months, I realized how comfortable I was. And I had told George -- Georgia Martin -- about Eric from the first day I was with the team. So the next time we had a family skate, I said I was bringing my boyfriend.” _

_ As easy as it may sound, Eric admits it wasn’t that easy for either of them. _

_ “Coming out is terrifying, always, because there’s no taking it back. If someone reacts badly you can’t just be like, ‘oh, just kidding!’. Those people have been let in on a part of your life and you can’t make them forget that, regardless of how they react.” _

_ Thankfully, the team didn’t make Jack regret his choice. _

_ “I mean, most of that team was at our wedding, so they were obviously comfortable with me dating a man,” Jack says, chuckling. _

_ The scene is set for the 2018 Olympics. Jack and Eric are both competing at the top of their leagues, ready for worldwide recognition. _

_ And then the NHL makes a controversial announcement: No NHL player will be allowed to partake in the Winter Olympics. _

_ Many reasons are given, from concern about the risk for injuries to disruptions in the already rigorous NHL season. But the unanimous reason given by players asked about it? _

_ “Oh, money, for sure,” Jack confirms. _

_ The risk to the NHL’s profit margins is what drove the decision, and the players and the fans both were upset. But Jack was maybe more upset than the average player. _

_ “The Olympics mean a lot to me. Yes, playing in the league was a dream come true and I love every game on NHL ice. But the Olympics – they’re different. There’s a bigger audience, and that’s – I don’t love the attention but – that reach, it’s important, necessary to grow the sport.” _

_ “We were looking forward to getting to go together, even though we were competing for different countries. And we weren’t out at the time, but both of us were aware of how important it would have been to our younger selves to see queer men on that kind of stage,” Eric adds. _

_ After the disappointment seeped through, the anger came out. _

_ And out of anger, a plan. _

_ Jack wasn’t the only player unhappy. Players from around the league gave not-so-thinly-veiled interviews about the Olympics, egged on by reporters on the hunt for a scandal. And did they ever get a scandal. _

_ “It kind of started with Tater. He was just like, well, they can’t stop all of us.” _

_ “Tater” being the nickname of Alexei Mashkov, who played on Jack’s wing from the start of his career in Providence. Exuberant, enthusiastic, and a fan favorite, Alexei is known for his passion on the ice. _

_ So Jack and Alexei hatch a plan in wistful “what ifs” that eventually come to fruition. The plan sounds simple: If you want to play in the Olympics, play in the Olympics. _

_ In actuality it becomes a lot more complex. _

* * *

“You want to do what,” George asks flatly. 

Jack winces and wonders if he should have talked to her alone first, gotten her in his corner, like he did when he came out to the team. 

“We want to --” he starts again, but George cuts him off. 

“It was a rhetorical question! This is -- I don’t even --”

“I think it would be a good idea,” Buff, the team owner, says simply. 

They all gape at him, including Jack and Tater. Buff, unconcerned, shrugs. 

“I think it’s a good idea. We talk a lot of talk about how hockey is for everyone, about growing the sport, getting kids into it. The Olympics do that. NHL players in the Olympics help do that. I think it’s time we walked the walk and put our money where our mouth is.”

“You cannot be serious,” Jacques, the general manager, says. “They’d be -- we’d be --”

“Going directly against the league, I know. Potentially losing games should countries choose some of our best players. We’ll have to get the IOC on board. Not to mention USA Hockey, Hockey Canada -- Alexei, we’ll help you with Russia, of course.” Buff nods to himself. “We’ll need to reach out to other team management. I don’t think it should be just us.”

Jack and Tater exchange shocked glances. 

“George, I think this will be good for us, ultimately,” Buff says, directly addressing her. “We’ll get PR on board. Oh, and the Player’s Association -- Jack, you worked with them when you were with Montreal, right? Perfect. Let’s start there and get some more allies before moving forward.”

When Buff stops talking, for several long moments it’s so quiet Jack can hear Tater breathing next to him. 

“I’ll reach out to USA Hockey,” Geoge says, snapping her meeting notebook shut and standing up. “So many people there owe me favors.”

“Jack, let’s set up a time with the Player’s Association. Alexei, I’m going to have someone start getting in contact with Russia -- we’ll get your agent involved as well, keep them in the loop.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Jacques says, shellshocked, as the meeting wraps up. 

* * *

_ Step One: Find others who are willing to step up. _

_ Not that hard; many players were giving disappointed sound bites to reporters across North America, and the NHL contains layers upon layers of connections that make it possible to get into contact with anyone if you’re a player and willing to ask enough people to pass on your message. _

_ Not every player he reached out to was interested. _

_ But some were, and it was enough. _

_ Step Two: Start convincing teams. _

_ “We knew the only way this would work is if people were certain they were going to have a career to come back to,” Jack says. _

_ Despite the NHL’s reluctance to send players, many teams saw the Olympics as free advertising, as getting more people interested in the sport and its players means more filled seats and more fans, worth a break in profits for the duration of the games. _

_ Jack, spurred on by the support the Falconers gave him when he was coming out to the team, approached them with the idea. _

_ They said yes. _

_ Not every player he reached out to was as successful. _

_ But some were, and it was enough. _

_ Step Three : Convince the IOC and the individual Olympic committees of each country to let these players, controversial as they were, join the national teams. _

_ Players from teams all over the North American continent petitioned their countries, most not on the North American continent, to be considered for already competitive slots. _

_ “Some countries were easier than others,” Jack says. _

_ The NHL also sent its own representatives, trying to convince National Olympic Committees not to put NHL players on their roster. _

_ Not every player was successful. _

_ But some were, and it was enough. _

_ Step Four : Play. _

_ And so NHL players flocked to South Korea, leaving a league empty of its top players. _

_ The NHL was in uproar, threatening to suspend players and fine teams. AHL teams were decimated as their NHL counterparts called up reinforcements. _

_ “Everyone knew about it beforehand,” Jack says. “But I don’t think many people thought we would actually go through with it.” _

_ The media coverage was thick, even for an Olympic event. Players were honest, voicing their displeasure with the Collective Bargaining Agreement that had been decided leading up to those games and how the League’s lack of willingness to cooperate had fueled their decision. _

_ “We basically went ‘if you’re not going to negotiate with us, then we’re not going to negotiate with you’,” Kent Parson, then-captain of the Las Vegas Aces, now retired, said of the event. _

_ “I think what a lot of people forget,” Eric says in response, “is that this was bigger than the Olympics. Yes, all these players wanted to go play for their country. But they also wanted better protections. They wanted to be safer all around, and that’s something I think most people can understand. This wasn’t just a protest of not being allowed to compete in the Olympics. This was a protest of the NHL’s refusal to cooperate with the players in all regards.” _

_ Threats and fines nonetheless, the show must go on. _

_ Multiple shows, in fact. _

_ “Oh Lord, it was so hard. The first week and a half had team skating, men’s singles, and all the preliminary rounds of hockey!” Eric says, laughing. “Yes, in 2014 we were trying to see as much of each other as possible. But it’s different when your boyfriend of four years is competing versus the guy you just realized you want to date.” _

_ “He’s conveniently not mentioning that he would take ridiculous paths to get everywhere because of the cold,” Jack says with a smirk.  _

_ “You stop! It was the coldest Olympics in twenty years!”  _

_ So, running to and from events was just another way to stay warm.  _

_ “I missed Eric in the free skate of the team competition because of practice,” Jack remembers. “But I made it to the medal ceremony.” _

_ “I saw Canada play Switzerland, but it was so late I was almost asleep in the stands – and then I completely missed the game versus the Czech Republic because I was getting ready for the free skate. Which I’m still bummed about, because Jack had to go and get the game winning goal,” Eric says, rolling his eyes. _

_ Jack shrugs. _

_ “I almost missed him in the free skate again. I got held up so long after that game that I almost came out right then and there, saying I needed to go watch Eric skate.” _

_ “Oh yeah, because that would have made them let you go.” _

_ According to all of them – Jack, Eric, and both their parents – Jack ran into the Gangneung Ice Arena to watch one final performer before Eric. _

_ “He was still a little out of breath by the time Eric came out to skate,” Alicia teases. _

* * *

“I made it,” Jack panted, hands on his knees. They’re clearing stuffed animals off the ice from the last performer before Bitty. 

“Catch your breath and then we can say that for sure,” Alicia said, eyebrow raised, patting his back.

“They wouldn’t. . . Stop talking. . .”

Coach leans around Jack’s parents to fix Jack with an unbelieving stare. “You’ve been dating my son for four years and you’re complaining about a lot of talking?”

Jack rolls his eyes, but is unable to hide his smile. 

“Okay,” he says after he’s mostly got his breath back and is settled in a seat between their respective sets of parents. “Catch me up, please.”

“He needs to land the Lutz,” Suzanne says with a sigh. “And everything else. Scores are tight.”

“His technical score if he got the full rotations on the Lutz but didn’t land it would get him a bronze if they were generous with execution scores,” Coach said. “If he doesn’t get full rotations, that’s it.”

Jack narrowly stops himself from chewing on his nails. The quad Lutz has been Bitty’s Achilles heel the whole season -- he’s landed it, but he’s also fallen so hard he dislocated his shoulder. He knows that Bitty’s has spent time with Kat and Georgy discussing what to do about it, if it needs to be taken out, but ultimately Bitty put it in his program for a reason: it gives him an edge, even if it’s a risk. 

Jack desperately wants it to pay off. 

The ice is finally clear, and Jack finally spots Bitty from where he steps out onto the ice from behind the double profile of Kat and Georgy. He lets Kat give him one last piece of advice and pat him on the shoulder before taking a lap around the ice. 

Bitty once told him that you can tell how nervous he is by how long he takes to settle into position. If he has to take more than two short laps through a few step sequences than he’s having a bad time. 

It takes him no time at all to set at center ice, and Jack takes the grounding deep breath with him, watching Bitty’s shoulders rise and fall. 

The music starts, and Jack wishes he could enter the blank performing state Bitty describes, where his mind doesn’t register at the same speed as the rest of the world, because Jack’s brain is working in overdrive, desperately aware of every movement Bitty makes, and the set up for his first jump makes his heart leap into his throat like no overtime shootout ever has. 

It’s clean, it’s rotated, it’s landed, no hesitation or question about it, and the breath Jack was holding escapes as a yell with the rest of the crowd. 

It’s breathtaking, is what it is. Jack still is doing the math in his head, but needlessly, because Bitty has hit everything so far. By the time they get to the Lutz, he’s almost forgotten that it’s coming. 

But he remembers in the heartstopping split seconds before the takeoff, and he slaps his hands over his face, peeking through his fingers, heart hammering. 

Time slows. 

Bitty and the music both set up for the takeoff. 

Jack stops breathing. 

Bitty talks about all the different stages of a jump so often that Jack forgets how quick they are. How you can blink and you’ll miss them. 

He doesn’t think anyone will have missed that one. 

It was perfect. Bitty had landed and kept going like nothing happened. Like the entire stadium wasn’t on its feet. Like Jack didn’t have tears in his eyes, shouting until he was sure he was going to lose his voice. Like Suzanne wasn’t jumping up and down, fingers digging into his and Coach’s forearms for dear life. 

Like he hadn’t just won a gold medal. 

* * *

_ Eric had been a dominant force in figure skating on a global scale for several years before the 2018 Olympics, ever since the 2014 Olympics put him on the map as a member of the United States beloved medal winning team. He would go on to do many things that would be considered historic and groundbreaking. And yet, that performance is still considered historic, the gold medal he wins for it just one part of the history.  _

_ The video of Jack watching Eric in the long program went viral several weeks after, after Alexei Mashkov posted it to Twitter. _

_ But before that – there’s more hockey to play. _

_ In 2018, Canada had a bye after their showing in the preliminary round, earning themselves a three day break. When not at practice, Jack could be found as a spectator, watching figure skating with Eric, or a different sport with his parents. _

_ “My dad got really into curling, the next games after he retired and watched games from TV, I guess. So he dragged me a couple of times because my mom refused.” _

_ As always, social media was a big part of the games. Unlike his husband, Jack has always been fairly elusive on social media, aside from his Instagram, which was filled with pictures from the games. Pictures of the elder Zimmermann watching curling intently, an artistic shot of a figure skater’s skate blade as they posed pre-performance, and plenty of pictures of the Canadian hockey team joking around before and after practice. _

_ “It’s amazing how close you can get with people in such a short amount of time when you have something that big bringing you together. Even players from other countries who I wasn’t close with before, only ever played against them – I still think of how in those months we would spend time on phone calls, trying to work out logistics, emotions, financials to get there. Yeah. It was a lot.” _

_ Eric’s social media, as it usually was, was full of pictures and videos, short stream of consciousness thought and quick video diary entries that had helped him become a darling of the games. It doesn’t stop once he’s a gold medalist, and people eagerly tune in for his continuing updates about the games. _

_ All this converged as the Canadian men’s hockey team earns its way into the gold medal game against the Olympic Athletes from Russia. _

_ It had been months of planning and negotiating, and even longer of fighting to be seen, of being taken seriously. And in one nail biting game and one world stopping moment, it all came to a head. _

_ When I began thinking about this article, thinking about that moment, I had one question: what were they thinking? _

_ “I was thinking that we had worked so hard to get ourselves there, that we should get to be ourselves there,” Eric said. _

* * *

Bitty sees it all happen in his mind a split second before it happens in real time. 

He’s watched enough hockey -- and more importantly Jack playing hockey -- to know Jack’s got an opening. And that Jack doesn’t make a habit of missing opportunities. 

He’s on his feet with the rest of the crowd as the puck goes in, Jack’s teammates throwing him into the boards with the force of their victory, Bob and Alicia and his own parents with him. 

Unlike in figure skating, where it felt like there was an eternity between the performance and the medal ceremony, when scores were added up and everyone had to just kind of hang out, in no time at all they were lining up for the medal ceremony. 

And as Bitty watches Jack get his own gold medal placed around his neck and his own eyes fill with happy tears, an idea comes to him. 

A dumb idea. 

A wonderfully, fantastic, dumb idea. 

He pushes past the confused Zimmermanns and takes off running for the stairs down to the ice. 

* * *

_ For the second time in the games, Jack Zimmermann would score a game winning goal in overtime, in true Olympic dramatic fashion. His teammates would jump on him, a gold medal would be placed around their necks, and they would wave a Canadian flag on a victory lap around the ice. _

_ And before post game interviews could begin, before showers could be taken and champagne opened, Eric Bittle, newly minted Olympic gold medalist, would jump multiple barriers to run onto the ice. In a moment broadcasted internationally, Jack Zimmermann, newly minted Olympic gold medalist, would sweep him off his feet in a swinging hug and, holding him close, kiss him passionately in front of the whole world. _

_ For the next twenty four hours, it is the headline on every newspaper, on every broadcast, on every online newsource and social media article. The fallout is immediate and global. _

_ But Jack and Eric? Didn’t particularly seem to care. _

_ “Oh, we were definitely in our world for a while,” Eric laughs. _

_ “At least until we saw our parents,” Jack says. “And they all had the same expression -- it was – it was –” _

_ “It looked like this,” Eric says, before mimicking a frozen expression of shock and horror, mouth open, eyes wide. _

_ Jack laughs. _

_ “They all looked exactly like that,” he confirms. _

_ As the men’s ice hockey tournament was one of the last events of the games and the closing ceremonies took place less than twenty four hours later, their moment on the ice dominated headlines for days, filling the void of constant Olympic coverage. _

_ Jack being at the games at all was a scandal, a PR nightmare for the National Hockey League, and now this. _

_ Eric had been bullied for being gay when he was young, and had hid in a self described ‘glass closet’. _

_ And the surprises didn’t end there. _

_ “I don’t think many people know it – but Eric proposed to me on that ice, out there.” _

_ “I don’t know that ‘proposed’ is the right word –” Eric argues. _

_ “Nope, that’s what it was. The words were a little off. We had already talked about getting married. But we were engaged after that, for sure.” _

_ I was desperate to know more, but first I had a more pressing question: What happened next? _

_ “We got so many requests for interviews and speaking appearances and it was crazy,” Eric says. _

_ “Our country teammates did a great job of steering any interviews away from that and onto other things – particularly the collective bargaining agreement that the league was playing under and the glaring lack of protections – so it was individual interviews where we had to be careful,” Jack says. _

_ Indeed, the two become infamous for not talking about that moment. They talk about being gay in their respective sports, how they hope the environment will change – but they don’t discuss that moment much. Their comments about each other don’t get any further than reiterating that they have been in a long term, loving relationship.  _

_ Some of the most insightful information came from social media. Fans of all winter sports flocked to Twitter and Instagram to see gems such as Alexei Mashkov’s video of Jack watching Eric’s gold medal winning free skate.  _

_ The Olympics might be one of the most sought after goals of an athlete’s career, but neither Jack nor Eric’s season was over. ISU World Championships was still on the list for Eric, and Jack had to face the music of defying the NHL.  _

_ Worlds came up quick for Eric, less than a month after the end of the Olympics. With it came new challenges; as the Olympics gold medalist, Eric was the one to beat, according to his competitors. As the other half of an international scandal, he was the one to interrogate, according to the media.  _

_ “I did have additional security during that competition,” Eric confesses. “I felt a little silly, but it did make me feel safer, especially when the media was so relentless. More than once I needed help escaping them just to stick to my schedule of workouts and performances. It was madness.” _

_ “I talked him into it,” Jack adds. “Me and my parents. The Olympics -- everything that happened was fantastic, and amazing. But it was also incredibly overwhelming. Knowing Bitty was going to have to go out into the spotlight again, alone -- yeah. I felt a lot better knowing he had backup physically present.” _

_ Eric was alone at Worlds, because Jack was finally playing NHL hockey again. After over two weeks in South Korea, and facing suspension and fines in the States, it was time to return to the Falconers.  _

_ The NHL had a choice to make. They had had their top players and teams collaborate together to violate very straightforward, if unfair, rules it had set out. The NHL hadn’t had to face such blatant disagreement and backlash with its policies in a long time. To go without punishment makes them look soft; to punish too harshly was tone deaf and a public relations nightmare bigger than the one it was already in.  _

_ That doesn’t include the fact that NHL teams were missing their top players, and were likely to be upset if the league kept them out for much longer than they already had been.  _

_ In the end, a $10,000 fine and a suspension of three games was given to all players who had competed in the 2018 Olympics. The money collected by fines levied by the NHL goes to the Players’ Emergency Assistance fund, a cause all involved were happy to contribute to. The players in question also banded together and matched the fines with donations to various hockey related charities across the globe, including You Can Play, which focuses on inclusion for LGBTQ+ athletes.  _

_ Eric gains another gold medal at Worlds, and although the Falconers don’t get past the first round in 2018, in 2019 they go all the way to their first Stanley Cup win as a franchise.  _

_ But their stories don’t stop there.  _

_ Jack had always been vocally involved with You Can Play and other charitable organizations with ties to hockey, especially those that focused on mental illness and social stigma, and he continued that work, able to speak from a different platform as an out queer player. Soon, he wasn’t the only NHL player open about his sexuality, and a new arm of outreach began, continuing work already started with youth in groups traditionally underrepresented in the hockey world.  _

_ Eric started to work with US Figure Skating to address financial strain in skaters.  _

_ “I feel very passionately about the fact that figure skating is a very demanding sport on the body, with a very short -- and young -- career expectation, and yet it is an incredibly expensive sport. It puts a lot of financial burden on parents. We can’t expect to get more people into skating as a whole without removing at least some of this barrier in front of them.” _

_ It was working with organizations to put on free skating clinics that led Eric to a new passion: teaching.  _

_ “I didn’t expect to love it like I did,” Eric confesses. “I’ve always loved working with other skaters, and I love kids. But I didn’t expect to love teaching, any kind of teaching, like I did.” _

_ Eric has followed this passion into being more involved with the running of the club at which he trained, improving other skaters as well as himself.  _

_ At 25 and 28 respectively, Eric and Jack were slowly starting to move past their prime, in terms of age. Their scores and stats, however, told a different story.  _

_ Bitty medals in the next five Grand Prix series, plus a silver in the 2022 Olympics in Beijing. Throughout many of those competitions, Bitty is challenged by a fellow countryman and rinkmate.  _

_ Alex Miller was one of the first skaters to join the small skating club in Providence where Eric had made his home. As Eric became more and more well known, Alex became better and better, and the pair became closer friends.  _

_ “I was so happy when he won gold in 2022. He deserved every point. I choreographed most of his free skate -- but Lord, he took that choreography and made it amazing to watch. I was proud to say I had a part in that. I cherish that silver.” _

_ Jack would finish out his career with the Falconers, leading them to another Stanley Cup and winning individual awards as he went, including the Art Ross Trophy and the King Clancy Trophy.  _

_ Despite the outward appearance of invulnerability given by scores and awards, a lifetime of high tier athletics does come with long term physical consequences.  _

_ “Arthritis in both knees, worse in the right – I’ll probably be scheduling a knee replacement next year,” Jack starts. _

_ “Arthritis in my hips. Luckily we’re not talking replacements yet,” Eric continues. _

_ “Tendinitis in my shoulder.” _

_ “I had to have a tendon surgically repaired in my ankle pretty much immediately after I retired. I ended up developing complex regional pain syndrome during recovery. I’ve got a good pain management regime, but before I had that it was pretty ugly for a while.” _

* * *

The worst injury Bitty experiences occurs two weeks after his career is over. 

Offseason runs are a tradition for Jack and Bitty. The high impact is too much for either of them during the competitive season, so their leisurely jogs from their condo to and through the park are relegated to Jack’s conditioning months and Bitty’s choreography time. 

With Bitty’s competitive career over and Jack’s winding down, they might become more common, Bitty thinks. His mind is filled with the thoughts of opportunities for what he might be able to do now that he doesn’t have to treat his body like it’s an expensive piece of equipment. 

And that’s what he’s thinking of when he steps off the curb wrong and falls to the ground like a sack of potatoes. 

Jack hears a yelp and then sees a downward motion out of the corner of his eye. He stops and whips around to see Bitty sprawled on the ground, one hand shooting to grab his calf and the other covering his mouth. 

“Shit,” Bitty breathes, eyes wide. “Oh, shit,  _ shit _ .”

“Bits? Hey, hey, what’s -- what’s hurting? Your leg?”

“My ankle,” Bitty says shakily. “It’s --” He doesn’t finish the sentence, instead gritting his teeth together. 

“You twisted it?” Jack asks, kneeling next to him. 

“It doesn’t -- it doesn’t feel like I just twisted it. It feels --” Bitty closes his eyes and breathes harshly through his nose. Jack startles when he realizes Bitty is tearing up from the pain. “Feels worse.”

If it were almost anyone else in the world, Jack would question that. Suggest that they go home, put some ice on it and see what happens and if it’ll feel better. But this is Bitty, who he knows has pushed and broken his body in all kinds of ways despite the pain, because that’s what you do when you’re a professional athlete. 

So if Bitty says it’s not just a twist, not just a slight strain, it probably isn’t. 

“Okay. Okay, let’s get you out of the gutter and I’ll call a cab.”

* * *

Several hours in a hospital waiting room later and they’re looking at an X-ray and an MRI of Bitty’s foot, with a doctor shaking his head. 

“You said you were a figure skater?” the doctor asks. 

“Yeah. I’m retired, though.”

“How long ago?”

“About two weeks.”

The doctor sighs. “That doesn’t really count. There’s no damage to the bone, but you have a tear in one of your peroneal tendons -- the tendons that run along the outside of your ankle. I’m not a foot surgeon, so I think it’s best that I give you a referral instead of a course of treatment. We try to avoid surgery if necessary, but there could be a lot more going on than what I can see with my eyes.”

“Is surgery likely?” Jack asks. Bitty’s hand covers his and squeezes hard. 

“It’s not uncommon. That’s about as much as I can say with any confidence.”

“So what do I do until I can see someone?”

“No weight bearing. I’m going to put you in a soft cast to immobilize it, and then you’ll be on crutches. Have you used them before?”

“Ugh. Yes. It’s been a while, though.”

“I’ll have someone come help you get set up with them, then.”

The doctor exits and Bitty lets out a shaky sigh and covers his hands with his face, reclined against the hospital pillows. 

“So much for my relaxing retirement,” Bitty mutters. 

* * *

After three days of Bitty hobbling around the house on crutches and stubbornly only allowing Jack to help him a minimal amount, and they’re back to looking at imaging of Bitty’s foot while a doctor inspects them. 

“We try to avoid surgery,” the doctor says, “and treat conservatively as much as possible. Rest and immobilization, physical therapy and rehabilitation. But I want to be candid. You’ve been hard on your ankles -- all skaters are -- and I doubt you would get any relief, and I think we would increase your chance of injuring the area worse. Tears in this area are usually compounded by a lack of blood flow to the area, and -- I think surgery is the best course of action. We can, of course, try nonsurgical methods first. It’s your decision.”

Bitty groans. “I hate this.”

“What does -- how bad is the surgery?” Jack asks. 

“It’s not a terrible recovery in regards to pain. As with any surgery in the feet, the lack of weight bearing is usually the hardest part -- usually four to six weeks on crutches with no weight on the foot is normal.”

Jack can see Bitty mulling it over. 

“It’s pretty good timing,” he reminds him cautiously. “I’m home for a while.”

“I filmed Alex’s long program already. I can talk him through the rest of it.”

“You could pull the invalid card and maybe he’d actually stop arguing with you constantly.”

“Aw, but then it wouldn’t be as fun,” Bitty says with a grin that promptly disappears with a sigh. “There go all of my fun summer plans, though.”

“You can take some time to think it over,” the doctor suggests. 

Jack and Bitty look at each other for a long moment. 

“No,” Bitty sighs. “Let’s get it scheduled. And get it over with.”

* * *

It’s been three months since Bitty has been cleared to skate, and seven months since the surgery. It’s not the first time Jack has come home to Bitty on his back on the floor, with his foot on ice on the couch cushions, and it probably won’t be the last. 

“Oh, bud,” Jack says with sympathy. Bitty acknowledges his presence with a wordless sound from where his arms are covering his face. “Have you taken anything yet?”

Bitty shakes his head. 

“Okay, hang on a second.”

Jack drops his bag in their doorway of their bedroom and heads for the bathroom. He digs through their medicine cabinet to find the prescription written for Bitty’s bad days like this. He nabs a lidocaine patch from the cabinet under the sink, and heads to the kitchen for a glass of water. 

“Bits? Do you want to lay down in bed?” Jack says once he’s set down all of his supplies on the coffee table.

Bitty shakes his head. 

“Then let’s get you off the floor? Onto the couch, at least.”

“Okay,” Bitty says, voice hoarse. 

Jack tries to be quick when he moves Bitty, knowing that the movement is irrationally painful for him, but he still sees Bitty’s teeth grinding together with how tight his jaw is clenched as he sits on the couch. 

Jack hands him the meds and the glass of water, which Bitty takes with shaking hands. He finishes the glass after taking the meds and set it on the floor before lying back on the couch with a groan. 

“Hang on,” Jack mumbles. “I’m gonna -- Bits, I’m gonna put the patch on, so you’re gonna feel me, okay? I’ll be gentle.”

He gets a mumble in response, and unwraps the lidocaine patch. Bitty’s bad ankle is red and slightly hot to the touch, even after the ice Bitty has had on it. The muscles in his calf jump when Jack presses lightly to get the patch to stick. 

Twenty minutes later and most of the tension has gone out of Bitty’s body, his jaw unclenched and his arms relaxed by his side. 

“I hate this,” he mutters. Jack just murmurs in response and continues to stroke his hair. “I didn’t even skate yesterday.”

“I know.”

“I’m so tired. And I’ve done nothing.”

“Being in pain is tiring. You’re retired, you’re allowed.”

Bitty grumbles unintelligibly in response. 

It’s silent for a few moments and Jack thinks Bitty might have fallen asleep, when he hears a quiet “thank you”. 

Jack reaches for Bitty’s hand, tangles their fingers together. Brings their hands to his mouth so he can kiss Bitty’s knuckles, kiss his wedding band. 

“Thank you for letting me help you,” Jack whispers back. Bitty squeezes his hand, with no more words. 

They don’t need any. 

* * *

_ “I’ll be seeing a neurologist at least annually forever, pretty much, to check up on my neck. Not to mention the regular maintenance it takes – massages, injections – to try to keep the headaches away.” _

_ Two years after the 2018 Olympics, in a moment that will make the list of scariest NHL hits for decades, a mid-ice hit sent Jack head first into the boards with all of the momentum of two hockey players at full speed. _

_ “I was on my way back from Russia, from the Rostelecom Cup, and my mom called me. At that point we didn’t know anything. We just had the video of the hit and he was obviously not okay. It was the scariest twenty four hours of my life,” Eric says. _

* * *

Bitty falls into the uncomfortable airport gate seat and starts searching in his bag for his portable charger, afraid to take his phone off airplane mode in case it shoots through the two percent he has remaining and makes him wait forever for it to turn back on.

He regrets not letting Jack talk him into getting a hotel in London for the night. It was a six hour layover, he’d maybe get four hours of sleep, if he could fall asleep right away and they weren’t delayed. So he’d said, no, no, he would stay at the airport, his internal clock was off, this way he would sleep on the plane.

Jack had said he’d be exhausted and sore and he would want to lay down in a bed instead of sit in a chair and so would Karina and Georgy and dammit, he was right.

And Eric couldn’t even call said husband and let him gently tease him about it and keep him company on his layover, because it was 2:30 am in London and therefore 9:30 pm in Providence and Jack was in the middle of a hockey game.

He hates Rostelecom. He couldn’t have gotten assigned to France where he could get a nonstop to Boston, oh no, it had to be Russia. He gets that this would be the first time he and Rusanov have competed against each other since 2018, and it was Rusanov’s home turf, and Bitty hadn’t done bad but he hadn’t done his best and the scoring showed it. And now he’s stuck in a crappy airport gate in London waiting for at least an hour or two for Jack to call him.

Eric sighs, and finally turns his phone off airplane mode once he’s got it plugged in. And immediately his phone rings with a phone call from his mother. He sighs, rolling his eyes a little bit. Years of international travel with and without her and she still hasn’t gotten any less anxious when he’s traveling. He’s probably got five missed calls already.

“Mama, I just got to a charger, my phone was almost –”

“Dicky, don’t watch the video.”

“What?”

The tone of her voice makes a small, deep part of him go cold.

“Don’t watch the video. Of Jack. Don’t watch it.”

“Mama, what’s going on? What video?” He presses his phone harder against his ear and holds his hand over his other ear, as if the insistence and anxiety in her voice is made up of airport background noise.

He can hear her take a deep breath and let it out slowly and that part of him gets bigger and colder.

“Dicky. Jack – Jack got hurt, tonight. He got hit – hit his head. Alicia and Bob are on their way. We’re going to fly up tomorrow morning.”

“What?”

“Honey, when does your flight get in?”

“Noon, around. Mama, what are you talking about?”

“Eric.” She takes another breath and mutters a barely audible “oh Lord”. “Baby, I don’t want to scare you, but I don’t want to lie.”

“Mama –”

“Jack is – he got hit, tonight, his head. It’s – we don’t know much, yet, okay? We don’t know. Alicia and Bob are going to be there tonight, and me and your daddy are going to meet you at the airport and we’ll rent a car together to go see him.” She pauses. “Dicky? Can you hear me?”

Bitty isn’t sure he can hear anything. He isn’t sure he’s holding his phone until it’s taken away from him. He jumps when Georgy puts an arm around him and pulls him close while Karina talks to his mother.

He can’t think and he can’t process, and there’s a roaring sound in his ears. He can’t see, for some reason, his vision is all gray, and he feels swallowed by the smell of Georgy’s pungent cologne.

He faintly hears Karina bark a few words to Georgy. Suddenly, he’s being pulled upright and shepherded into walking. He still can’t really see and stumbles a few times, but Georgy steers him around until he vaguely notices a change in environment.

Eventually they stop and Georgy moves from standing next to him to standing in front of him, holding tight to his upper arms. It takes a while but Bitty realizes that Georgy is trying to talk to him, and that they’re standing in the handicap stall of the men’s room. Georgy must notice Bitty coming back into himself a little bit.

“Eric? Are you with me?”

“Um.” Bitty makes a hopeless motion with his hand.

“Okay. Here’s what we know. He went head first into the wall and they took him to the hospital. No tests have come back yet, but he was in and out of consciousness. His parents are on their way., and your parents are going to meet us at the airport and take you to the hospital, and we’ll know more then. Right now the most important thing is no assumptions.” Georgy squeezes his arms tight. “Eric. No assumptions. Come on. Say it with me.”

Bitty gets halfway through the word assumptions before his lungs seize up enough that he can’t force any more air out. He slides down until he’s sitting on the tile floor, back to the stall door. He’s vaguely aware that his hands are gripping at his hair tight enough to hurt, but he can’t hear the thought to unclench them over the sound of his breathing. He’s heaving, dry, tearless sobs, that rip at his chest and make his vision gray.

A firm hand on the back of his head forces his head between his knees as he gasps and heaves. Georgy is muttering to him, inane words about letting it out and trying to take a deep breath.

Eric has no idea how long it takes but eventually his breaths start coming longer, but remain shuddery and light. Georgy releases the pressure on his head and Eric eases his hands out of his hair to wrap around his legs instead, hiding his face in his knees. Georgy rubs circles into his back.

“I want to see it,” Eric finally croaks. He attempts to clear his throat and tries again. “The video. I want to see it.”

“Eric, no. Your mom said it was a bad idea.”

“I’m 27, I don’t do everything my mother says.” Georgy stills looks unconvinced, so Eric tries another way. “Georgy. I need to know what I’m going to be walking into. When I go to the hospital. I need to know.”

Reluctantly, Georgy starts typing onto his phone. He pulls up what Eric assumes is the video, and watches it once, keeping it out of Bitty’s line of sight. The sound is off, but Bitty knows when the hit comes up because Georgy gasps.

“Eric, you don’t need to see this.”

“Georgy. Yes, I do. That’s – it’s Jack, I – I need to know.”

Looking like it was the last thing he wanted to do, Georgy slowly handed the phone over. Bitty snatches it, turning away and rewinding the video.

The video shows a zoomed out view of the ice with Jack’s number one jersey taking off after a loose puck. He goes to shoot, still with the momentum he was using to get to the puck in the first place, closing in on the net, when an opposition player hits him hard enough from behind that Jack falls forward, the player on top of him, and they both crash into the boards with Jack’s head making first contact for both players.

The angle of Jack’s head on impact is sickening.

Bitty rewinds the video and watches it again.

He rewinds it and watches it again.

He rewinds it and –

Bitty realizes he’s not just vaguely nauseous, that he’s going to vomit.

“Oh God,” he says, dropping Georgy’s phone to the tiles with a clatter while he leans over the toilet and throws up whatever he ate before leaving for the airport hours ago.

Georgy’s hand on his back is familiar, and comforting, and it makes Bitty want to cry.

He finds he can’t, though. Not when Georgy makes him wash his mouth out, not when Karina has a pile of McDonald’s hashbrowns for him to eat, not when they board the plane and he stares out the window, mind blank.

His eyes are still dry, rough like sandpaper even, when they land in Boston. He shuffles through customs on autopilot, paying the barest amount of attention to anything, letting Karina and Georgy take the lead. He wakes from his trance enough to cling to his mother when she meets him at baggage claim, and lets her stroke his hair while Coach reaches for his bag off the conveyor.

“I just talked to Alicia, and he’s – not completely awake, but he’s pretty medicated so they’re not surprised. She said she’ll tell us everything at the hospital.”

“Okay,” Bitty whispers into her shoulder. She gives him one last squeeze and then holds him at arm’s length.

“Let’s go see your boy, okay?”

* * *

Alicia meets them at the check in counter and grabs Eric in a fierce hug before spewing information, leaving the paperwork to Suzanne and Coach.

“They’re pretty sure he’s going to be okay. He has two small fractures, in the C4 and C5 vertebrae, but they’re not displaced – the spinal cord isn’t damaged. He hasn’t lost any sensation. He –”

“He broke his neck?” Bitty whispers.

Alicia nods, eyes kind but also tired.

“He did. But he broke it in the best way. He’s going to heal just fine. No skull fractures, no brain bleeding. He has a pretty severe concussion, and between that and the pain meds he hasn’t been particularly coherent. Or awake, really. He doesn’t completely know what’s going on but they’re confident that that will change.”

“He’s going to be okay?”

“Yes. He’s going to be okay.”

“He’s – he’s still going to be able to feel everything, and –”

“The doctors think the risk of paralysis is low at this point.” Alicia squeezes his hands. “They can’t guarantee anything. But they think he got very lucky and he’s going to be okay. It’s just going to take a lot of time.”

“Dicky,” Suzanne says. “Here.” She hands him a name tag to stick to his shirt.

“Come on,” Alicia says, gently grabbing his elbow. “Bobby’s with him. They’ll both be happy to see you.”

Alicia leads him and his parents to the elevator, which opens onto a smaller lobby than the one downstairs. She points him in the direction of the double doors.

“Only two of us at a time for now. I’ll text Bobby so he can come get you,” Alicia says.

A moment later, the doors swing open and Bob walks out, strained around the eyes but sincere when he says he’s happy to see Bitty.

“How is he?”

“Really out of it.” Bob sighs. “He really is going to be okay, though. He’s got a –” Bob gestures to his shoulder and neck. “—thing. Apparatus. He’s going to be in it for a while. But no surgery. And I don’t think he’s noticed that he’s got it on yet?”

“Is he – is he in a lot of pain?”

“Well, he’s got a lot of pain meds on board and he’s not conscious for very long. So I hope not. But it’s a concussion. And neck fractures. I’m sure it doesn’t feel good.” Bob finally stops at a door propped open. “Go on in. I’ll stay out here for a bit.”

Hesitant, Bitty steps into the room, and slowly pulls back the curtain.

Jack looks. . . He actually kind of looks okay. There isn’t any obvious bruising, no cuts or scrapes that make it immediately obvious he’s seriously injured. Were it not for the somewhat medieval looking device, wrapping his forehead and completely surrounding his neck under his chin before disappearing underneath the hospital gown, he would look completely normal.

Bitty sinks into the chair next to the bed, gingerly grabs Jack’s hand, and finally, as the hours of travel and worry and anxiety catch up to him, he cries.

* * *

Bob has magically produced a cup of Starbucks coffee for Bitty and he gets about halfway through it before the doctor comes in.

“I’m Dr. Sherman, I’m the neurology specialist here. You’re the husband, I take it?” she asks, addressing Bitty.

“Yes. Right. Eric. Uh, Bittle. Um.”

The doctor looks between Bitty, Bob, and Jack, who’s still asleep in the bed. She shakes her head.

“So is there someone in this family that isn’t an Olympian?” she says, smiling a bit.

Bitty doesn’t know what to say, so he just flushes while Bob laughs.

“There are a few,” Bob says.

“Good to know. Eric, I don’t know what you know already, but I’m sure you have questions.”

“Alicia – Jack’s mom – said he has two fractures? Um, in his neck? And that he doesn’t need surgery and shouldn’t be paralyzed. And he has a pretty bad concussion.”

The doctor nods.

“Yes. He has very small wedge fractures in his C4 and C5 vertebrae, caused by compression. The C4 and C5 vertebrae are about here” – she indicates the middle section of her neck – “and we don’t see a whole bunch of compression fractures there in previously healthy patients, which doesn’t sound like it’s good news for Jack but it is. Nothing is displaced and therefore the spinal cord is completely unaffected. All we have to do is keep everything where it is right now and let the bone heal itself.”

“That’s what the whole” -- Bitty gestures to Jack’s general upper torso – “is for, right?”

The doctor nods.

“Right. This is a Minerva brace and he’ll be wearing it for at least four weeks, but maybe longer. After that, he’ll go to a smaller, but still rigid collar, and then finally to a soft collar.”

“But he’ll be able to go home?”

The doctor sighs.

“Yes. But I don’t know when, yet. More because I want him under observation because of his concussion symptoms than anything, especially when he’s on such strong pain medication. I don’t want to send him home until he’s improving and on a reasonable home pain management regime.”

Bitty nods.

“Okay. Okay. That does make sense.”

“It’ll be a long road, but I’m very confident he’s going to make a complete recovery. I can’t guarantee he’ll return this season but –”

“He’s going to be able to play again?” Bitty says, voice flat with shock.

“From a purely medical standpoint, and assuming no complications, yes. There’s no easy timeline for concussions like this, and this was a significant trauma, so I would urge counseling before allowing him to return to full contact activities. But yes, absolutely, I expect him to play professional hockey again, assuming he wants to work to get there.”

“Oh.” Bitty didn’t know what to say to that. He leaned back into his chair again and stared at the opposite wall, unseeing.

“But that’s a long way away. Right now we want to keep him as quiet and calm as possible. I’ve already spoken to Mr. and Mrs. Zimmermann about this, but when he’s awake he’s very disoriented. Don’t be surprised when he repeats questions, and try not to. . . startle him.”

“It’s very hard to startle him,” Bob adds. “He’s about thirty seconds behind the rest of the world.”

The doctor nods. “I’m sure you’ll have more questions as we get closer to releasing him, so feel free to write them down and I’ll answer them as best I can when I come in to check in on him.”

As the doctor leaves, Bob turns to Bitty. “I’m going to switch with Alicia, maybe get something to eat. I think your parents went to get a hotel room. Can I get you anything?”

Bitty shakes his head and raises his half full Starbucks cup.

“This is perfect, thanks.”

Alone with an unconscious Jack, he starts, briefly, thinking of the future. How he’s supposed to be out of the country for a good part of the next month and a half. How he’s still bone tired from one of the most important competitions of his year.

How on earth is Jack supposed to put a shirt on with the brace in the way?

The fingers he’s still holding lightly twitch slightly and he glances up to see Jack’s eyelids fluttering. It takes a few stops and starts, but finally his eyes slide all the way open.

“Ugh,” is what he says.

“Hi sweetpea,” Bitty says, standing up and leaning over so he’s in Jack’s eyesight, though his eyes aren’t quite focusing. Bitty squeezes his hand.

“Bitty?”

“Jack.” Jack’s eyes blink a couple of times, so slowly that Bitty wonders if he’s going to drop right back into unconsciousness.

“What. . . What is happening?”

“You’re in the hospital, honey. You got hurt in the game last night, but you’re going to be okay.”

“Which game?”

“Caps.”

“Oh.” Jack closes his eyes for a moment and sighs, and once again Bitty is sure he’s falling back asleep before his eyes blink open again. “Is my dad here?”

“He just left to go get something to eat, do you want me to get him –”

“No. No. I just. I think I talked to him?” Jack sounds confused and befuddled.

“You did.” Bitty rubs the back of Jack’s hand with his thumb soothingly.

“I don’t remember the game.”

“You hit your head pretty hard.”

“But it’s going to be okay?”

“It’s going to be fine, sweetpea. I promise.” Carefully, Bitty leans in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“And I can. . . Can I sleep?”

“Of course, honey, you need rest.”

“’Mmkay. I’m so tired.”

Bitty can’t help but chuckle and squeeze Jack’s hand. “Go back to sleep.”

Bitty sits back down with a sigh when Jack closes his eyes. It’s only moments later when Alicia walks in.

“Oh! You just missed it, he was awake for a few minutes.”

“And how was he?” Alicia asks. She walks to the other side of the bed to take a seat in the other chair.

“Confused. Didn’t seem to remember much of last night or today.”

Alicia nods. “About the same, then. Eric, please let Bob take you home so you can get some sleep.”

Bitty recoils, a flash of anger shocking him. “What? No! I’m not leaving.”

“You need to sleep, and not in a chair. Go home and sleep in your own bed.”

“But –”

“Jack isn’t going to remember if you’re here or not. And he’s going to be in the hospital for days, at the very least. You’ve been in three different countries in the past twenty four hours. You can’t be here the whole time he’s in the hospital. He’s not going to be alone, and you can come sit with him after you’ve slept horizontal for a while.” Alicia sighs before continuing.

“Eric. Jack is going to need a lot of help recovering from this. You two can’t do this alone. And you don’t have to. You’re working so hard, you’ve still got your career. Let us old retired people help you.”

“Okay,” Bitty whispers, looking down at Jack’s hand in his. “Okay. I’ll try.”

* * *

The Providence Falconers statement on the condition of Jack Zimmermann:

“We have received good news on the condition of Jack Zimmermann. He remains in the hospital for treatment of two fractured vertebrae and a concussion, but he is expected to fully recover. His family thanks everyone for their well wishes and asks for privacy and peace in order to aid Mr. Zimmermann in his recovery.”

* * *

Instagram post from JLZimmermann1: Watching @erbittleUSA skating in the Grand Prix Final! Wish I could be there in person, but happy to be home and watching with my parents on my couch instead of a hospital bed.

* * *

_ The impact looked catastrophic, potentially life threatening. But, Jack would heal and recover and go on to play five more full seasons for the Providence Falconers. _

_ “I’m aware I got lucky. I had fractures in two vertebrae in my neck, and I hit my head – I honestly don’t remember any of that game or most of the time after it. The angle I hit, it was – the muscles in my neck were pretty messed up by it too, and the time I spent in braces and collars exacerbated that,” Jack explains. _

* * *

After about three months of braces, collars, and supports, Jack is finally allowed to live his life without anything around his neck. Finally, he starts to see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

And he would feel better about it, if he weren’t still getting headaches on a daily basis. 

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” the neurologist says, and Jack can feel Bitty squeeze his hand harder and suck in a deep breath. “The good news is that I don’t suspect post concussion syndrome for your continued headaches. What you’ve described to me sounds like tension headaches.”

“So it’s not caused by the injury?” Bitty asks.

“No, I do believe these headaches are related, but not to the concussion. It sounds like these are headaches caused by the damage done to the neck muscles in the area.”

Jack feels his face pulling together in a twisted frown. “So there’s not much we can do.”

“Again, no, we still have plenty of options for treatments. Your last round of imaging confirms that your vertebrae have fully healed, so I would feel comfortable with corticosteroid injections in the area. I’m also recommending regular massages and physical therapy, both of which you can get from the Falconer’s staff.”

Jack blinks. “Massages?” He can’t help but sound skeptical. 

“Yes. The muscles in your neck are trying to compensate for other muscles that are damaged and aren’t pulling their weight in the job of keeping your head up. As time has passed, these muscles are getting tense and knotted from overwork until they can’t relax, even at rest. This is manifesting in your headaches. If we can get those muscles to relax, you’ll find pretty immediate relief, I think.”

Jack and Bitty look at each other. 

“Can’t hurt to try, I guess.”

* * *

“I keep wanting to roll my neck and stretch, but I’m kind of scared,” Jack confesses to an audience of Shitty, Lardo, Ransom and Holster. It’s the first time they’ve had anyone over since Jack got to stop wearing his soft collar, and he’s still getting used to the freedom of movement. He’s also trying to ignore the pain starting to steadily increase like a band of pressure around his head. 

“It’s a little weird seeing you able to turn your head, I keep thinking you’re gonna hurt yourself,” Bitty says, returning from the kitchen with a glass of water. He sits next to Jack on the couch and passes him the water. 

“Are you still in any pain?” Ransom asks. “It’s wild that you can just break your neck and still be, you know, a person.”

“Euh, a little? Not from the break, but the muscles around it were pretty messed up. So that hurts, and they’re giving me headaches.” They’re giving him one now, and he reaches a hand back to rub at the join of his head and neck. 

“Headaches? Isn’t that a bad sign that you’re getting headaches after a concussion?”

“Well -- no, because they’re tension headaches? Definitely from the neck and not the head injury. But, they won’t let me start training again until I have them under control?”

Bitty’s hand gently pushes his out of the way and starts kneading his neck in its place. Jack rolls his shoulders. 

“So what’s the plan?” Shitty asks. “Are they just going sit on their asses and hope it gets better?”

Jack shakes his head gingerly. “No. I’m going to PT, and basically treating it like I pulled a muscle, with ice and heat. And massage. I’m going to be getting injections soon to help.”

Jack rolls his shoulders again. Bitty hums a low note of worry and moves to sit behind him on the back of the couch. Soon, Bitty’s thumbs are pushing hard into the tight muscles, and Jack lets his head fall forward with a sigh. 

“He’s got a headache now,” Bitty explains. “And it’s just the muscles in his neck getting tight and stiff. So massaging it helps, and releasing the tension with heat and ice really works. But we’re hoping the steroid injections help get them from getting tense and inflamed for a long enough period of time that he can start conditioning and whatnot again.” Bitty leans forward with his elbows digging into the knots on the upper part of Jack’s shoulders. 

The tight pressure band around his head loosens a little. 

“Damn, that’s intense. But they -- you’re still going to play again?”

“As long as I can get the headaches to go away long enough to start skating again, yeah.”

* * *

Bones is on his second plane ride with the Falconers since being called up. He doesn’t know much, yet, about his temporary teammates, but between bits and pieces from his AHL teammates knows a couple of important facts. 

Mainly, about fines. 

The ubiquitous “rolling suitcase” fine. The “used the lunchroom microwave for fish” fine. The “didn’t use a fork for his pie” fine. 

The “neck pillow on a roadie” fine. 

Which is why Bones is trying to figure out how to ask why Jack Zimmermann is currently snoozing contentedly while wearing the world’s fanciest neck pillow, before most of the team has even boarded the plane. 

It’s the second plane ride of Bones’ time with the Falcs, and the neck pillow has made an appearance both times, so Bones knows he’s not just getting lucky. Especially since Jack sits next to  _ Tater _ , the most gleeful and enthusiastic fine enforcer of them all. 

Maybe it’s a test? Or a prank? See if he’ll call out one of the captains or not? And if he does they’ll mess around with them both. 

Bones knows two things for sure: 1. There’s something up with Zimmermann’s neck pillow. 2. The least likely person to follow through on a rookie prank was Poots. 

Bones slides into the seat next to Poots, who just gives him a tired nod. Two games in southern California, and now a flight north to Seattle had thoroughly wrecked everyone’s sleep pattern. Bones has about a five minute window before the plane starts taxiing and everyone falls asleep. 

“Poots,” Bones whispers. 

“Yeah?” Poots responds at his normal volume, which was about twice as loud as anyone would want it to be. 

“Shhh! Please be quiet. I have a weird question.”

Poots immediately goes from good natured curiosity to instant suspicion.

“Uh --”

“It’s not bad! It’s just -- I heard a rumor. That um. Neck pillows? Are fineable?”

“Oh they are,” Poots said, nodding sagely. 

“But um -- and I’m trying not to, like,  _ imply _ anything, but uh, Jack --”

“Jack doesn’t get fined for his,” Snowy says, butting into the conversation from the row behind them. “When you crack a couple of bones in your neck in the name of the game, you get to wear a --” He stands up and starts to yell. “--  _ dumb fucking pillow _ \--” Distantly, a hand with the middle finger raised appears from the front of the plane, along with the complaints of everyone for the volume. “-- whenever you want. Apparently it helps stop some of his headaches? Anyway. Don’t get any ideas, we will happily fine the fuck out of you.”

* * *

_ The hit was controversial, to say the least. The player in question, James Gray of the Washington Capitals, was removed from the game but no higher punishment was handed down, even as fans and players alike insisted that it was a targeted hit, and that homophobia might have been a motivator. _

_ “I honestly don’t know,” Jack says, when asked if additional punishment should have been handed down. “I’ve watched the video, but video doesn’t catch everything and I don’t remember it actually happening. All I can say is that it didn’t get an independent investigation, which is what we’ve fought hard to get included as a requirement in the Collective Bargaining Agreement.” _

_ Jack continued that fight he started in the turbulent Montreal locker room, working with the Player’s Association to continue to improve conditions for hockey players in the League.  _

_ “Working with teams on how to treat their queer players, educating them on concussion protocol -- or even just telling them to listen to their doctors on concussion protocol -- there’s so many ways the League could have handled things better and I wanted to be a part of that even after I stopped playing.” _

_ Eric has also stayed busy in retirement, coaching and choreographing for some of the top figure skaters in the world.  _

_ “I loved the creative parts of skating as much as I loved the tradition,” Eric said. “I loved getting to use my favorite songs in my programs, once lyrical music was allowed. It’s been so much fun combining that with teaching others, watching them be great, finding joy in someone else’s success and accomplishments.” _

_ As the interview was winding down, I had to ask again about their proposal story. The words were a little off? One of them considers it a proposal and the other doesn’t? What exactly was said, what words were shared during such an iconic, visible moment?  _

_ They look at each other. Exchange a secret smile. _

_ “Nah,” Jack says. “We have to keep some secrets.” _

* * *

At some point, Bitty starts laughing and it breaks their kiss.

“So. We’re out. Are we going to get married, Mr. Zimmermann?” he teases. Jack smiles and kisses him again.

“Oh, bud,” Jack says when they break again. “We can do everything." 

__

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm on tumblr at marchingatmidnight! ](https://marchingatmidnight.tumblr.com/)


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